


Four in a Row

by exhaustedwerewolf



Series: 30 Day Post Challenge [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Humour, Or it's meant to be, Rivals Keith and Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8539243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustedwerewolf/pseuds/exhaustedwerewolf
Summary: Lance has a challenge for Keith.





	

“Keith! Get in here!”   
Keith groaned at the sound of Lance’s voice and covered his face with his hands. Shiro, seated next to him, laughed sympathetically.  
“That’s his rival voice, isn’t it?” He asked smilingly. Keith responded with a dry look. “You better give him what he wants, or we’ll never hear the end of this. You know that, right?”   
“Yeah, yeah.” Keith muttered, sliding off the sofa and trekking warily in the vague direction of the kitchen. He could hear Shiro chuckling as he left, but resisted the urge to flip him off.

“What do you want?” Keith asked, leaning partly through the doorframe, still hoping in vain that he could get out of this.  
“Scared?” Lance was stood in front of the counter, grinning widely. Keith rolled his eyes. “I thought you might be. But even you won’t be able to resist…” He stepped away dramatically, revealing what he had been blocking. “Four-in-a-row! I’ll prove I’m better than you once and for all.”  
Keith heaved a long, loud sigh. Lance didn’t seem to hear it.  
“And how,” Keith asked him, approaching the counter reluctantly, “Will this prove I’m a better pilot than you?”   
“Well- It won’t,” Lance clarified, apparently considering this question deeply. “It will just prove you’re a better four-in-a-row player than me.” He paused. “Hey-!”  
Keith allowed himself a small smile, and breezed past Lance to stand beside the game.   
“Alright, alright. Best of three?”   
“Nah, I don’t want to win that quickly. Best of five.” Lance declared, striding to join him.   
“What colour do you want to be?” Keith asked, waving a hand lazily to indicate the counters.  
“W-What…” Lance trailed off, glancing down at the red and blue counters he had not painted himself, thank you very much. “It’s, um. It’s blue and red…”  
“Oh, I see, you’ve put thought into this.” Keith said under his breath, mostly to himself, and Lance flushed.  
“I have not-!” He began, outraged, but was interrupted by the decisive click of a counter falling into place. His eyes travelled slowly to the single, red slot right in the centre of the board. “Hang on, who said you could go first?”  
“Are you kidding me?”   
“I am not! Do you have no respect for the art of strategy? We should’ve played rock-paper-scissors, or drawn straws or-“  
“For quiznak’s sake, Lance, just start already.”  
“Okay, okay!”

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Hunk entered the kitchen, whistling obliviously. He stopped short when he caught sight of his fellow paladins leant over the counter, Lance clutching his head in one head, Keith’s mouth set into a frown.  
“Woah. What’s going on here?”  
“Hunk! Here to watch me kick Keith’s butt?” Lance asked, drawing up and giving his friend a toothpaste commercial smile.  
“Actually, I’m just here for a snack.”  
“Shut up.” Keith said vaguely. “Both of you, I’m trying to count.”  
Hunk hesitated momentarily, glancing at the storage unit on the far wall. His curiosity got the better of him, however, and he wandered over to the pair.  
“So, who’s winning?”  
“It’s complicated…”

“Hunk!” Pidge called irritably, typing while walking, expertly balancing a laptop. “I thought you were getting snacks?” When no response came, Pidge looked up and saw that Hunk had pulled up a chair and was watching Keith and Lance in rapt attention.  
“Pidge, get over here. You have to see this.” Just as he finished, Lance gave an angry exclamation, and dashed his remaining counters off of the table top.  
“Another draw? How is this possible?!”  
“Because this is a game for children, Lance. Anyone paying the barest trace of attention can prevent themselves from losing.”  
“Shut up, we’re going again!” Lance shot back, stooping to pick up his counters.  
“You know what? Maybe I will stay.” Pidge said thoughtfully, setting the laptop down on a separate counter. 

“Here you all are! I’ve been looking everywhere for-!” Shiro began, exasperated, but was interrupted as Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Coran and Allura all turned on him like predators.  
“Shhh!” They hissed with enough animosity to make Shiro back up a step.   
“What the heck?” He asked, voice hushed, and Allura came to escort him to join the audience.  
“They’re playing one of you earth games,” she whispered to him, leading him to the counter. “Connect-Four. They’ve been at it for hours.”  
“You’re joking.” Shiro said, apparently louder than was acceptable, as he was mercilessly shushed again.  
“It’s best of five. Keith’s won once, because Lance got distracted.” Pidge supplied, turning to update Shiro. “And he let Lance win once, because Lance wouldn’t let him go to the bathroom until the game was over.”  
“Hey!” Lance called, still staring intently at the game. “You make it sound like I cheated.”  
“I believe an argument could be made that you were cheating, yes.” Coran commented, all business.   
“There are no bathroom breaks on the battlefield.” Lance replied, dropping a counter with a flourish.   
“It’s remarkably intense.” Allura said in Shiro’s ear, and he shook his head disbelievingly, but fell silent to watch.

Four hours later, as Shiro was passing Pidge in the hall, a shout came from the direction of the kitchen.  
“Another draw? Seriously?”  
“I’m not doing this on purpose, Lance, if you could just hurry up and lose-“  
“They’re still at it?” Shiro asked incredulously, and Pidge nodded seriously.  
“Yup. I told them to go to bed, and Lance threw cutlery at me.”  
Shiro massaged his temples, breathing in deeply.  
“Alright. I’ll make them stop. Goodnight, Pidge.”  
“’Night Shiro.”

The next morning, Shiro recounted the story of how he had to drag Lance, refusing to let go of the counter, by his ankles over breakfast.


End file.
